Halos and Horns
by Niamh St. George
Summary: A collection of unrelated stand alone drabbles and ficlets, continuity and coherence optional. Aziraphale and Crowley feature, of course, and possibly even in That Capacity.
1. Priorities

Title: Halos and Horns  
Author: Niamh St. George  
Summary: A collection of drabbles and ficlets from the _Good Omens_ universe.  
Disclaimer: The novel _Good Omens_ and the characters therein do not belong to me. They are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. No profit is being made.

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"Priorities"  
Summary: A bit of fluffy nothing inspired indirectly by Eddie Izzard.

"Come now, Crowley, you can't expect me to believe that."

The demon's shoulders lifted in a fluid shrug. "Believe it or don't, angel. It happens to be the truth."

"Napoleon."

"Yep."

"Mind, I don't have difficulty finding the association itself incredulous--"

"Gee, thanks."

"But why you'd lead him into his greatest failure does puzzle me somewhat."

"Oh, come on. Can you think of a better way to create a breeding ground for discontent? Do you have _any idea_ how many of those soldiers turned on each other?"

"I have an excellent idea," the angel replied, grimly.

"It didn't take much persuading," Crowley went on. "A bottle of Bordeaux and a bit of flattery is just about all it took, the proud little bugger. Basically all I told him was that Russia was filled with a bunch of backwards nitwits who couldn't hope to stand up to the mighty Napoleon, and it'd be a real feather in his cap if he managed to gain a foothold in Russia. And that I was certain all those rumors about Russia's climate were nothing but propaganda designed to deter lesser men than him."

A beat of silence passed between them. Aziraphale still looked dubious.

"What's the look for?" Crowley asked, affecting a wounded expression.

"Trying to deduce what you stood to gain by leading Napoleon's army to their greatest defeat."

Crowley picked up his stemmed glass. A twist of lemon floated in the clear liquor. Shaken, not stirred, just the way he liked them. He took a sip, watching Aziraphale over the rim.

"A French influence would've bastardized the vodka industry, angel. And we can't have that."


	2. Risk

Title: "Risk"  
Summary: Another bit of silly nothing, also inspired indirectly by Eddie Izzard with vague references to previous drabble. You can't talk about Napoleon's attempt on Russia without at least acknowledging Hitler's.

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Bottles surrounded the two supernatural entities currently sat at a table in Aziraphale's back room. A board game covered part of the table. Bottles (most of them empty) covered the rest_.(o)_ They were deep in conversation, contemplating the fates of their respective troops. It was Crowley's move, and he sent a large portion of his plastic figurines to various spots on the green portion of the board_.(oo)_

"You aren't seriously trying to take Russia, Crowley."

The demon twisted the cap off a bottle of vodka and poured a glass suddenly full of some rather surprised ice. "Of course I am."

"One would think you'd learn from _other people's_ mistakes." The angel glared pointedly. "You aren't the first to try a stunt like that, my dear."

"Yeah, but see, the thing is, _he_ thought he had a better idea than old Napoleon had, when in fact it was the same blessed idea."

"And I do wonder how he might've got such a ludicrous idea planted in his head."

Crowley feigned innocence as he built up his troops, casually imagining himself more figurines when his reserves had grown thin. "And what ludicrous idea is that, angel?"

"Something to do with 'backwards nitwits' and Russia's winters not being that cold?" Aziraphale arched an eyebrow at the demon before further building up Australasia, strengthening his foothold in the wretched place.

The demon smiled a bit at the angel's hypocrisy and when his turn came up, placed a few more plastic figures on the board. "Something like that."

"Let me guess -- Germany would have bastardized the vodka industry as well."

"On the contrary, I think they would have increased production and output by 150. Vodka would've become the Mercedes of liquor."

"So how was it he ended up in a ditch--"

"Don't forget the petrol."

"Yes, yes. On fire, instead of ruling Russia with an iron fist?"

Crowley grinned at Aziraphale over the tops of his shades. "Who of any of us could possibly say for certain?" He took a sip of the clear liquid, rolling it around on his palate for a moment. "Free will, it's a bitch."

"Moreso than Eva?"

"I do believe that was low, even for you, angel."

"Your bad influence, I'm sure."

"Flatterer."

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_(o)_One part Risk, one part drinking game: A bottle of Sangria commemorated the moment when Aziraphale took Spain, Moet & Chandon when Crowley took France, Riesling when Aziraphale took Germany, Chianti when Crowley took Italy, and so on. 

_(oo)_It was a rather older edition of the game they were playing, before Russia became more complicated than a Dostoevsky plot.


End file.
